The Soul
by Fablewitheggs
Summary: David 8 develops and discovers that he has a soul. Slight Elisabeth x David


_(Authors note : Very much inspired by Blade Runner and the replicants, I definatly reccommend watching that movie before seeing Prometheus, it's kind of enlightening. )_

One night, Elisabeth wakes in the middle of the night to find David's side of the bed empty. This in it's own isn't that strange, but for some reason there's an odd feeling in her stomach.

Something feels off.

The apartment is too quiet.

Even when he's up and about at this hour there is always that sense of activity, but not now.

Silently she slips on her grey bathrobe and steps out of the bedroom. There are no lights on, but her amber eyes can see very well in the first she doesn't notice him, but then she spots him sitting on the couch in the living room, his face turned towards the windows. She comes closer, and yet he doesn't turn his head to accknowledge her. Something about this alarms her.

"David?"

He doesn't answer, silent and still. She sees his hands shaking in his lap. She moves to sit beside him on the couch, but before she can his head snaps to look in her direction –as if he just heard her come in. There's something odd about his eyes, she doesn't know if it's because of the streetlights outside or some other light source – but in that moment they are alight with something. Not like her own, because this is not natural. It's like a twin pair of television screens in there, showing pictures of fire. Is this a malfunction? Is his hard drive burning up?

It's very frightening, and he's still not said anything – he's just staring at her silently. Elisabeth had almost forgotten how it was like to be afraid of him, she isn't now but she knows she probably should be. He stares at her for so long that she almost thinks that he's gone into some sort of trance.

She covers his shaking hands with one of her own.

"David? Is something wrong? What can I do?" She says, her voice tinted with worry.

His eyes look down on her hand in his lap, that eerie blazing light never leaving them. He observes the hand for a moment, smiles at it as if it is something more than just a hand and then gently picks it up and presses it to his cheek as he shuts his eyes. He sighes like he is relieved to have her there, like some heavy burden has been lifted.

"I'm alright Elisabeth. It's alright."

She has no idea what he's talking about, but he's talking and he sounds like himself so she tries not to worry. She nods uncertainly at him, still trying to figure out jus what has happened. She doesn't ask him.

"Okay. Let's go back to bed."

"Yes."

The following morning everything appears to be normal, at least for them –him. She watches him carefully though, for some kind of sign. But nothing strange happens, as if last night didn't occur. His smile is calm and he kisses her good morning. His eyes aren't burning, or glowing like last night she thinks, as she watches him move around the cabinets in the kitchen – cooking breakfast. She's almost forgotten about it as she's eating toast and reading the paper, then she's off to work and has little time to think about it for the rest of the day.

* * *

Last night he had been lying awake in bed and pondered things, like he usually does. He'd observed the slow rise and fall of elisabeth chest, always facinating to him. Then his thoughts had drifted to things that needed to be done tomorrow at the pharmacy, bottles that needed to be reshelfed, costumers requests on products. He thought about people he had encountered there, and then he stops to think about the little boy.

A little boy and his mother had come in to get medicine for an ear infection. He'd brought a work sheet from school, homework he said. It was a quiz on moral behavior, what one should do in certain situations. As they waited for their turn, he reads a question aloud to his mother.

" You're in a desert, walking along in the sand, when all of a sudden you look down, and you see a turtle crawling towards you. You reach down and flip the turtle on it's back. The tortoise lays on its back, beating its legs trying to turn itself over, but it can't. Not without your help. But you're not helping. Why is that? "

The mother is appaled at the question, finds it absurd and wonders what the boy's teacher was thinking when she wrote that one down. But this serves as a good puzzle for David. He sees it like one of those old riddles in the daily paper, there can only be one correct answer and he wil figure it out. The words repeat themselves in his head all day. But by the time it's time to close the store, he has an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He doesn't like to think about that question suddenly, why he doesn't know.

He gets home, showers and starts making dinner. Elisabeth will be home by 8 o'clock. He smiles as he thinks about her. Then something like electricity hits him near where his heart should be. It's not enough so that it's visable from the outside but he senses it nonetheless. He stops smiling and runs another diagnose. Everything is fine.

She comes home and they eat dinner together, he doesn't mention what's been happening to him – doesn't want her to worry. After dinner they watch a movie, it's one with his favorite actor Peter O'Toole. It's called "Venus".

Somewhere in the middle of it (1 hour, 2 minutes and 30 seconds in to be precise) O'Tooles character quotes a poem by shakespeare.

Now he KNOWS that something must be wrong with him. Why else would his tear ducts leak like this? He wipes them away before Elisabeth sees them. After the movie he says that he would like to get to bed early, she joins him shortly after.

That question appears to him again. But now it's not pleasant at all to think about, for some reason. He know that it is suppose to trigger a negative "feeling" , leaving a defenseless creature like a turtle on it's back. But it's how it's phrased that's bothering him, confusing him.

_**The tortoise lays on its back, beating its legs trying to turn itself over, but it can't. Not without your help. But you're not helping. Why is that? **_

The question is illogical, he thinks. But there must be a reason for him not to help it, isn't that what the question asks for? A good reason.

But there aren't any good reasons.

He'd be heartless. He'd be –

Oh.

Something stirrs within him, something like a shock but it burns. As if he's finally stumbled upon the right answer to a mathematical equation that has taken years to solve. He has travelled the world and beyond to find it, and now he has.

He goes completly still, because he can actually see it inside of him. He can't touch it, but he **feels** it.

His eyes suddenly glow like a supernova.

"There you are."


End file.
